realest niggas in the club, in none we trust
COB, crip or blood, they both riding with us
i graduated from a thug, now im bossing up
thats on everything i love, i really dont give a fuck

this is sut sut,
COB let me hear that SUT SUT, if you fucking with me
let me hear that sut sut when im up in the club
let me hear that sut sut, show your nigga some love

circle of bosses, same kind of bosses, slim thuggin rosses
i see you dawgs tryna walk in my paw prints
im throwing bullets like the dolphins on offense
i know you cops prolly want me in a cage
but my futures so bright you see the sunny in the shade
you thought id get this money and behave
niggas left me for dead and did the dougie on my grave
you rappers hating that im back again
I.D.G.A.F. my favorite acronym
last of a dying breed, none created after him
hustle god, chilling with my mary magdalene
whats a god to a non believer, he`s still a god, COB to the death
the realest squad nigga, a 100 deep in the club yelling sut sut
the movement is bigger than music, sut sut

CHORUS

(FUCK YOU)

2012`s Stanley Burrell, we got those blammers,
you cant touch this, you got them old hammers
i work a mac better then some computer programmers
i shoot your entourage like HBO`s cameras
fake beggin rappers, leave them bustas dead
if the lead can form, they be running scared
if the cob come for you, we on your head
its going downhill from there like you on a sled
you dont give a fuck, well same here
im so ahead of my time, me n moms was born in the same year
COB bitch, live niggas neva loose,
i put you on the first 5 minutes of the news
hand me down niggas, die in your brothers shoes
what I live by, my mother fucking rules
some of these old west rappers, they fear him
take your COSIGN and shove it up your rear end